Luna Light
by hollyorange
Summary: The story of my version of Bella as she explores the world of art, light and love. Set in the fictional town of Marshwood, WA, Luna-Bella Swanson is a 17 year old who doesn't see the world the same was as everyone else - perhaps with one exception. AH, OOC.
1. Chapter 1

**1.**

I flexed my fingers by my side uneasily, pressing further back into my seat. For the last hour I had listened to my parents discuss my college applications and it seemed to have gone unnoticed that I had yet to speak a word in the conversation. Lately it seemed ritual, as soon as I was with my parents the topic of college always emerged one way or another. This time it was around the dinner table and I was considering just leaving the table, taking the unlikely chance of either one of my parents actually realising I had left. It was not that my parents were self-absorbed or negligent; it was simply that they were getting desperate in reaction to my seemingly uninterested attitude to my own academic future.

So, where was I heading? It wasn't that I didn't care. I had asked myself this question constantly for the last couple of weeks, evening turning to the school taught 'brain storm' technique in the back of one of my old science exercise books, picking out a colouring pencil and carefully sketching a blue bubble encasing the word 'FUTURE'. Unfortunately, what I conjured up was less of a brainstorm and more of a brain drizzle. After sliding my chair back across the wood floor and placing my plate at the sink, I retreated upstairs to my room to get my bag. Wrapping a scarf around my neck and placing my keys in my jacket pocket, I returned down the stairs and went outside. Standing on the porch, I eyed the mailbox absentmindedly as I listened to my parents continue to argue about dorms and college funds. I decided against breaking the conversation to tell them I was going out, I instead closed the door behind me, hopped down the stairs onto the path, put in my earphones and headed to the cathedral.

I didn't really know what drew me to the cathedral; I wasn't a particularly religious person, but lately it had become rather a haven. I liked the way the stained glass looked and felt when you were inside – very ethereal and really quite beautiful. I liked the way everything was hushed, but never silent. Most of all though, I liked the people that came into the cathedral. As I slipped inside the now familiar dark wood door, the smell of candle wax and incense lingered softly in the air. The cathedral was warm and dimly lit and I took a seat in my usual spot at the back left most side of the cathedral underneath a gold framed portrait of a saint, a piece of ivy draped loosely over it. I crossed my legs on the long pew and unwound my scarf, folding it and placing it beside me. I took out a notebook from my bag, leaned back into the seat and began to draw.

St Genevieve's Cathedral was on the corner of Masen Street, where I lived, and I had to admit that I hadn't paid it much notice at all until very recently. Part of one of my art class assignments was exploring the subject of light, and it wasn't until I was almost blinded by the reflection of the sun off the cathedral windows on the bus ride home that I really saw it for what it was. That's what it had started as – a school assignment where I documented the effect of coloured light on objects in the cathedral with my 35mm film camera. I had developed the photos and chosen half of them to stick in my portfolio and annotate, and had pegged the rest of them up on a brown rope string that hung over my bed. I was surprised, however, when long after my assignment was handed in I still found myself frequenting the cathedral, without even the excuse of bringing my camera along anymore.

I had watched three people enter the cathedral, going their separate ways around the interior of the building. A small elderly woman sat down quietly at the front holding tightly to some flowers, a heavily dressed man with a seeing-eye dog stopped to place some money in a collection basket at the side of the building. A woman came inside clasping the hand of a young boy who seemed reluctant to enter. She walked down the center of the pews and he lugged behind, brushing a hand against each of the chairs as he went making a soft patter on the wood. He looked up and our eyes met. I smiled at him, understanding how tiresome he must find this outing at such a young and energetic age. I returned to my notebook and reached into my pocket for my mobile phone, pulling it out as the screen illuminated – 8 o'clock. I sighed quietly and packed my notebook, pencils and my scarf into my bag and got up to leave.

"Luna?" A voice asked from behind me. I turned back to the seat and smiled. "Oh, hi Pastor Nick," I said quietly.

"Hi there, I was just going to ask you about the recital this Saturday. Did you want to join us?"

"Ah, well Pastor-" I began, but he quietly stepped in.

"I'm not going to ask you to convert to our church or anything like that Luna," he laughed softly. "I just thought you would like it, I know you like drawing the cathedral."

I let out my breath slowly before continuing. "Yeah, you're right. Of course I'll be there," I promised, easing the door open. "See you then." He smiled in response and the door swung quietly closed behind me.

I took the route home slowly, edging around the circle pools of light on the pavement from the street lights above. As I walked I admired the houses along the street, each one with a story to tell. I lived on a lovely street, it was neat and tidy and the houses were small and welcoming. It was also close to the city – which was both strange and comforting to me, having moved from a rural and rather empty country town a couple of years back. I walked up our stone path and into the house, hanging my jacket on the hook by the door. I leaned into the living room where my parents were watching a television program wished them good night, before climbing the stairs to my bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

_I took the route home slowly, edging around the circle pools of light on the pavement from the street lights above. As I walked I admired the houses along the street, each one with a story to tell. I lived on a lovely street, it was neat and tidy and the houses were small and welcoming. It was also close to the city – which was both strange and comforting to me, having moved from a rural and rather empty country town a couple of years back. I walked up our stone path and into the house, hanging my jacket on the hook by the door. I leaned into the living room where my parents were watching a television program wished them good night, before climbing the stairs to my bedroom._

**2.**

I dropped my bag onto the floor by my desk and checked my emails on my phone. Nothing new. I put my notebook on the shelf next to my bed and slid a CD into my sound system. As the music began to play – I was listening to For Emma, For Ever Ago – I kneeled by my bed to re-stack the books that were begin to pile along the side of the wall. After catching myself just staring out the window twice, I shook my head and went to get my school bag from my closet. Packing my school text books in, I placed the bag at the foot of my bed and went to brush my teeth.

I awoke to the jingles of my phone alarm as it vibrated off my bed and clattered to the floor. Picking up and returning it to my bedside table, I got up and sloped to the bathroom. Eyeing myself in the mirror cautiously, I was, as usual, unimpressed. My long brown hair hung just above my waist in what I suppose you would describe as waves, while dark shadows circled my large brown eyes. My junior dance date had told me he thought I was very pretty, but that was when I had braces and he had no one else to talk to. Sighing, I pulled my hair up into a loose high ponytail and went through my morning face routine. Blinking at my reflection through my now lightly mascaraed lashes, I gave myself a look that said 'you can do it!' before rolling my eyes and hopping downstairs with my bag, gym clothes and flute case. Grabbing a piece of toast and throwing a water bottle into my gym bag, I headed outside.

I generally enjoyed the bus ride to school. I sat with Marc Newsom at the back end of the bus every morning except for Wednesdays, when he had track practise earlier. I got on the bus and found my usual spot, greeting him with a warm smile. "Hey man," I said as he took my flute case and held it for me so I could slide in next to him.

"Luna, hey," he replied. "Your parents still asking about college?"

"For sure," I answered. "I think they'll still be talking about it even after I've left for college," I sighed lightly. He grinned. For the rest of the ride Marc talked about the strange customers he'd had to deal with working at his parent's store, Newsom's Books. When we got to school, I picked up my bags and headed off the bus, smoothing my shorts down. The weather was lovely, bright sun and cool breeze. I had dressed in black shorts, a navy blue blouse and an army green parka with my low-top grey converse. I said goodbye to Marc; he was going to the gym and I was going to orchestra practise.

The school day sloped by slowly, as most did. At lunch I sat with Marc, Jen Lisson, Angela Bayer, Rose Hail, Emerson Grey, Allie Braydon and Jack Whiting, and conversation was slow. I wasn't really paying attention to what my friends were saying; instead I was focused on the people around the cafeteria. It was interesting seeing how cliquey the school had become, and I was glad I had a group of my own.

"Lu? Luna-Bella Swanson! Are you listening?"

A sweet voice caught me out. "Uh, yeah?" I replied. "What's up?"

Allie eyed me curiously. "We were asking if you wanted to come with us to the reservation beach a couple of miles out. On Saturday, remember?"

Damn. Saturday. Recital day. "Oh, I'm sorry, I am actually doing something on Saturday. What about Sunday?"

"Jack, Rose, Emerson and I are going down to Maintown on Sunday, sorry Luna."

I hated to admit I was a little relieved. "No problem guys, you go without me. I'll catch up with you next week."

The group exchanged glances, but remained quiet. I think they were beginning to notice my absence recently, I suppose I spent much a little too much time at St Genevieve's.

After school I had to go to work at Pierre's Refinery. Pierre's was a beautiful art supply store in the center of the town, which I worked at on Monday and Friday afternoons. I got off the bus outside Pierre's and went through the back, tossing my school stuff in the staff room and putting on my apron. Tying the string at the back of the apron, I walked into the front of the shop and winked at Jake - my co-worker and best friend.

"Hey, what's up man?" I asked, slapping his palm with my fingertips.

"How's it going Lu?" He smiled widely, setting down the box he was moving. "School good?"

Jake didn't go to school anymore, he had dropped out after junior year to play professional sport. But after a horrible biking accident left him with a back injury that needed slow healing, Jake was stuck working part-time jobs to save money to look after his father. I really admired Jake, and that made him an easy guy to like.

"School was alright," I sighed. "I wish you could come back to Marshwood though. Someone needs to protect me from Tyler Green," I added quietly.

"Is he still giving you a rough time?" Jake asked. "Because I could sort that out Lu, you know I could."

Tyler Green was my first boyfriend. We hadn't been a serious thing, but my parents were friends with his and they sort of always assumed Tyler and I would become something, which Tyler himself obviously thought too. Don't get me wrong, Tyler was a really nice guy, but I wasn't really ready for a relationship. I guess I didn't quite know how to share myself with someone else. I didn't really have much to share.

"No, J," I said. "You know that's not what I meant. He just keeps trying to get 'us' back and I can't seem to find the right words to tell him it's not going to happen."

Jake leaned back on the boxes and ran a hand through his hair. "As long as you're happy, Lu. That's all I ever want for you."

"I am happy Jake," I shook my head. "I am happy."

When I got home from work I went straight up to my room, before dropping my bags and heading to the bathroom. I ran the water and let the steam fill the room. Shutting of the tap I got out of the shower and leaned against the wall running a towel through my wet hair, realising I was exhausted. I returned to my room, flicking through my CD rack I picked out Sigur Ros - Valtari - and turned off my bedroom light. Looking up at the ceiling I remembered the cathedral recital, but that was as far as I got before I fell to sleep.


End file.
